


New Tricks

by cdra



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Deepthroating, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rival Relationship, sensory manipulation magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: Lamorak has some fun while practicing mind control magic on Gawain. (Set when Lamorak was studying in Dalmore.)
Relationships: Gawain/Lamorak (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	New Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> _oh my god, they were RIVALS..._
> 
> did you know I love gawain? I love gawain. and lamorak has been released from gay baby jail. *chuckles* i am in danger

“Hey, Gawain,” Lamorak drawls, his voice caressing Gawain's senses in this  _ irritating  _ way that demands his full attention. Gawain narrows his eyes, not fool enough to miss the telltale flicker of magic on the sorcerer’s tongue, nor the glint of a scheme in his eyes.

He squares his shoulders, determined not to let his focus waver to let Lamorak sneak some sort of trick past him. “What are you up to this time?” Gawain bites out, blunt and sure. “Whatever it is, I won’t fall for—”   


“Hah? So quick to suspect me...! That’s mean—aren’t we _friends_ …?” Lamorak frowns hard, as if he could possibly be innocent—which if Gawain was the kind of person to laugh at Lamorak's stupid jokes, he’d be howling over. He starts to demand that Lamorak not tell such obvious lies, but for some reason, his throat’s gone tight—when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out.

The quick little curl of Lamorak’s lip says he’s already fallen for it, and Gawain curses internally at the realization.

His glare stays locked on Lamorak’s ruby cat’s-eyes, the way they spark in the dim light of the afternoon that filters into the castle windows. “ _ You _ —answer… me…!” Gawain manages, despite how his tongue feels like it’s in a vice-grip and his limbs only twitch when he commands them to move. Lamorak strides closer, limbs long and loose and oddly graceful, and Gawain can’t force himself to balk despite the urge.

The sorcerer’s laugh is dark and melodic, all too pleased for Gawain’s liking. “You make yourself so  _ easy _ , Gawain,” Lamorak purrs as he rests an arm against the wall behind Gawain, effortlessly boxing him in despite his smaller frame. “Well, now that I’ve got your full attention… I’ve got some fun new things I’d like to try. That’s fine, riiight? It’s nothing painful, I promise!” He sounds so chipper, messing around as always—the knight grits his teeth in an attempt at a snarl, but much to his dismay, his body seems to only melt against the wall as his knees weaken. He tries to jerk his head to the side, to better assess the situation, but finds that his vision won’t shift.

Ah. So he can’t take his eyes off Lamorak.

“No objections, then?” His feline lilt says plenty well that he knows Gawain  _ can’t _ object; the magic’s already dug its hooks into Gawain’s skin and it’s making his awareness darken at the edges, with a dreamlike pallor washed over everything that isn’t Lamorak. “Ohh, that look in your eyes is nice… you’re fighting  _ so  _ hard, but,” Lamorak brushes his palm against Gawain’s cheek, and his tone drops a few degrees to a chill, “you’re slipping, too.”

Sometimes, Lamorak puts away his playful tone for a moment, and reveals something that makes Gawain’s skin crawl—but right now, it’s that very  _ thing  _ that catches Gawain’s interest, beyond the preternatural way he’s been captivated. It’s like staring down a curious abyss, unsure of what he’ll find at the end—except, Lamorak’s hand against his face isn’t exactly  _ disquieting _ . (He wouldn’t admit it, but it’s  _ almost  _ a comfort—a lifeline.)

Lamorak hums to himself softly; Gawain’s vision blurs, save for the stark, shimmering red of the sorcerer’s eyes. The numbing tingle of magic skitters and spreads through his muscles, through his head, and leaves his body heavy and useless. Lamorak speaks languidly; “Tired yourself out, did you?” Unconsciously, Gawain’s head sinks into Lamorak’s hand; his eyelids are heavy, but his gaze remains focused. “Very good… I think I understand the process. Now, let’s see how effective it is…”

A knee between Gawain’s legs, fingertips beneath his chin—and to both, Gawain’s body only responds by accommodating, even as his breath falls in an unsteady grumble. Lamorak’s spindly fingers glide their way between tousled blonde strands, and a strangely hot feeling prickles in Gawain’s gut, the tell-tale beginnings of arousal. Lamorak said he wouldn’t try anything  _ painful _ , but surely that wouldn’t mean—surely he doesn’t intend to— 

Gawain gasps as Lamorak’s hips rock up against his own, his thigh pointedly grinding against the knight’s crotch. The fog of his surroundings grows warmer with the seconds that tick by; his skin flushes as Lamorak shifts, slow and methodical and observant.

“Hmm… my control over your senses seems sound,” he mutters, lips curled into a feline grin. “And you’re compliant with my  _ actions _ , but…” He rolls his hips again as he ponders; Gawain’s breathing grows less steady as his cock stiffens. The situation is maddening—yet, wrapped up in Lamorak’s spell as he is, Gawain can’t help but find it sort of pleasant.

“Gawain—touch yourself.” The words come soft, whispered close enough to Gawain’s face that he can feel Lamorak’s breath fan over his chin—but delicate as Lamorak makes it sound, the order hits his body and mind like a hammer. His arms, despite their previous heaviness, jerk to life, and one hand slips forth to palm at his cock. A sound bubbles from his throat, choked and stammering; he’s far too sensitive, to be so wracked by pleasure at a simple touch through cloth, but doubtlessly that’s at the hands of Lamorak’s machinations.

The sorcerer nudges his hips forward again, obviously pleased—curses flood Gawain’s mind, although they can’t reach their target. “Hehe, good boy—” Lamorak teases, ruffling Gawain’s hair again; Gawain bites his lip and groans, the best he can manage in way of expressing his displeasure (and pleasure, as it were, though that’s not so intentional). “Since you’re being good, how about I reward you a little for the next test, hm? Undo your pants for me.” It’s a welcome enough compulsion, considering he’s gotten hard enough that his clothes are uncomfortable, but Gawain still internally balks as his fingers fumble hurriedly over buttons.

Lamorak pulls back, leaving behind a fuzzy confusion, and his eyes slowly close—but, the tint of them remains over Gawain’s vision as the spell buzzes under his skin. Gawain fidgets, finding that his body still doesn’t respond to him; it’s still too heavy for him to properly move, though, and his head’s still stuffed with hay or something similarly unhelpful. As Lamorak opens his eyes again he looks over Gawain’s body, only glancing at his face; he’s shifting his focus, testing the limitations of what he’s wrought, and Gawain can’t say he’s  _ surprised  _ that the shackles of it are still so fast upon him, considering it’s  _ Lamorak _ .

“Hmm, not bad…” he ponders as he rubs his chin, and the careless tone of his voice combined with the way his gaze lingers on Gawain’s dick make Gawain wonder, stupidly, if he’s referring to the magic or something  _ else _ . “Okay—let’s see about rewarding you, like I said~” Lamorak trills, his hands settling on Gawain’s hips; Gawain’s brows raise as Lamorak lowers himself to his knees. All this nonsense clearly has his mind in the gutter, or is Lamorak really intending to—

Slender fingers curl around the base of Gawain’s cock to answer that unspoken question; Lamorak tucks the stray falls of his bangs behind one ear with a hum. “H-hey,” Gawain stammers against the sorcerer’s grip on his tongue; his voice is off, though, small and faltering and hardly his own. “W-wait, you…” he attempts, but not quickly enough—Lamorak’s already got his lips around the head of his dick and that’s enough to scatter whatever it was Gawain was trying to get him to “wait” for.

Lamorak has the nerve to hum inquisitively  _ with his mouth full of Gawain’s cock,  _ which just forces a choked sound from Gawain’s throat as the vibrations seem to wrack his entire body. His fingers twitch and manage to grab clumsily at Lamorak’s shoulders and hair as the sorcerer takes his shaft deeper with  _ frustratingly  _ expert ease. Gawain catches a glint of satisfaction in those ruby eyes when Lamorak glances upward; the sight of Lamorak between his legs is, though Gawain’s loath to admit it, awfully enticing. Lamorak’s tongue slowly works its way around Gawain’s shaft and he watches Gawain’s flushed, faintly-wrecked expression expectantly.

Much to Gawain’s dismay, the bastard can somehow  _ smirk  _ with a dick in his mouth.

With a drawn-out, throaty purr, Lamorak pulls off of Gawain’s now-fully-hard cock to breathe steadily. “Heh, you should see your face right now, Gawain—it’s a real treat. All zoned out and turned on that easy...” Gawain manages a growl at that, fingers clenching enough to tug a bit at Lamorak’s hair—which doesn’t seem to annoy him at all, annoyingly enough. “Mm, though you do have a little more control over your faculties now… not outside of acceptable bounds, though…” His wrist idly pumps Gawain’s shaft as he mutters, thinking aloud, and takes a moment to brush his hair out of the path of Gawain’s grip. (Maybe it did bother him?)

“Hey, g-get on with…!” Gawain snarls; always one step ahead, Lamorak takes Gawain’s cock halfway down his throat in one go. Heat squeezes tight around him, and he sees rose-red stars in the fog of his vision; Gawain bites down around a heavy gasp and grabs hold of Lamorak’s shoulders again as his waist buckles. His senses spiking from the magic Lamorak’s filled him with, plus the fact that Lamorak clearly knows what to do with the bobbing of his head and the circling of his tongue and the hollowing of his cheeks, is enough to make Gawain’s head spin like he’s going mad.

It doesn’t take long before it starts to be too much, heat coiled up in his gut and clawing at his spine. Lamorak’s motions are unhurried, though nonetheless pointed in how he directs his tongue and teeth to prod at all of Gawain’s weak points. “Lamo...rak,” he hisses, teeth gritted—it’s difficult to form words, between the magic and the sparks of sensation. “That’s  _ enough _ —I’m about to…”

Lamorak’s brow quirks as he pulls back with a wet pop of his lips; he clicks his tongue, chiding, and it makes Gawain scowl. “Ah-ah, not  _ quite  _ yet,” he chimes, a little breathless—the tone sends a jolt straight to Gawain’s dick. “You didn’t say  _ please _ .” Lamorak’s cheeks are a little darker than they were, marking a flush across his skin, as he twists his fingers skillfully around Gawain’s spit-slick shaft; Gawain blinks a few times as the sight properly registers in his addled mind, along with the implication that Lamorak is  _ enjoying this _ beyond just the “watch-Gawain-squirm” kind of way.

The pressure in his loins doesn’t lessen, not with the way Lamorak is still touching him—Gawain tenses and groans through clenched teeth. He’s on the edge of climax, yet unable to pass it; Lamorak’s magic is playing with his body still, leaving only a maddening tension throughout his nerves. “Damn you,  _ you _ —” Gawain curses gruffly, to which Lamorak only chuckles.

“What was that?” Lamorak hums; his thumb strokes at the head of Gawain’s cock, making his head spin. “I won’t know what you want if you don’t ask nicely, Gawain~” He’s playing games—and making a mockery of Gawain in the process, as he’s wont to do. Gawain would be more angry about it if he wasn’t going crazy from whatever Lamorak’s spell is doing to him—as it stands, there’s little he can quite process aside the throbbing urge to cum.

A rumbling sound echoes in Gawain’s throat, displeased and overheated. “Rgh—fine!” he snaps hoarsely, throat dry; there’s vitriol in the “ _ please _ ,” he forces out.

Lamorak purrs a sigh; “I guess that’ll have to do,” he allows, casting Gawain’s reddened, pulsing cock a smug, sidelong glance as he strokes it. The grip of his magic loosens like manacles coming undone, and it hardly takes another jerk of Lamorak’s wrist before Gawain’s spilling himself into the sorcerer’s hand with a low whine. Perhaps because of all the teasing, his knees threaten to go weak beneath him and his vision nearly goes blank—Gawain’s hips tremble, but he holds himself steady by leaning his weight onto Lamorak’s shoulders.

“...You... absolute  _ bastard _ ,” Gawain huffs between gasps, hands shaking as his brain reconnects with his body in the aftermath of Lamorak’s magic. “Surely you have—better ways to practice your stupid magic, than…”

“Naaah,” Lamorak drawls nonchalantly as he fishes a handkerchief from his robes to wipe his hand clean; a nonplussed smirk remains across his lips. “Playing around with you is  _ definitely  _ the most fun kind of practice, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s the best.” Gawain growls, at that, but Lamorak merely gives a light laugh. “Besides, you totally liked it.”

He’s not wrong, there, but Gawain wouldn’t  _ dare  _ agree to that out loud.


End file.
